Storm
by Feline-Overlord
Summary: Happiness that is not meant to last, but ends in tragedy... Scot/Fra, human-AU


Waves of stormy grey water crashed against the ship-wall, throwing it around like a simple toy. Heavy rain-drops hit the deck, forming a flood that washed over the floor. People ran across the ship, frantically trying to get to the lifeboats. They were yelling and pushing, screaming and stumbling, falling and being trampled on. Within all this chaos, a single person was fighting against the mass of panicking passengers. His wavy, blond hair was slicked down with water, sticking to his pale face. "Andrew!," he yelled. A wave crashed over the ship, washing over him. Screams erupted from the people who were trying to escape. The man sputtered and fought to stay on his feet, but the pushing mass of humans swept him off his feet. His head hit the floor and he could taste blood. "Merde," he hissed, struggling to get back to his feet before the panicked crowd could trample him to death.

_Francis was just strolling across the ship, eyes fixed on the passing clouds in the sky. The sun shone brightly, warming his face and back. Going to a cruise had sounded fun, but until now, it had proven to be only one thing: boring. He sighed, taking a turn to the left and almost immediately hitting something solid. "Ugh," he fell to the ground and landed on his behind. Looking up, his blue eyes were greeted by dark greenish-blue ones that blinked at him from underneath thick eyebrows. Red hair was tugged on by the sea-wind; the sun behind the stranger's head made them glow like fire. "Pardon," Francis muttered, "I should have been watching where I was going.." To his surprise, the stranger offered him a hand. "Nevermind," he said. Hesitant, they man on the ground took the offered hand. A slight blush crept over his cheeks when their fingers made contact. With surprising strength, the stranger pulled him up. They looked at each other for a while, until finally, the red-haired man cleared his throat."You can let go of my hand now," he said; his words were obscured by a heavy Scottish accent. Francis tensed up, realizing that he had in fact been holding on to the man's hand. "Pardon again," he muttered and let go. The Scott laughed; it was a deep, rough laugh, but beautiful nevertheless. "I'm Andrew," he said finally, "Care for spending some time together? This ship is boring me."_

He grabbed hold of something solid above his head, water rushing around him. Somehow, he managed to get into a standing position. Another wave threatened to drag him into the bottomless depths of the ocean, but he managed to remain standing. Around him, the fading screams of the dying grew into a high crescendo when more poor souls were thrown over board. Biting his lip to block them out, Francis fought his way across the deck. "Andrew!," he yelled. If there was an answer, he never heard it. Once more, a wave washed across the deck and this time, it knocked him off his feet. He fell and felt how his body was tossed around like a doll, not even caring about his struggles. The flood dragged him to once of the open doors – the dining hall. Several tables were scattered around the room. The light had turned off long ago, now only flickering on now and then. Francis got up, coughing from swallowing the salty water. Then he froze. Through the storm and waves, through the screams of the dying and the thundering of the rain – a melody reached him.

_The setting sun turned the sea into ruby red flames. Francis stood on the railing, watching it sink into the water. The first stars were blinking in the indigo sky over his head already. He sighed, brushing back a few stray strands of blond hair. Turning around, he found that the other passengers had already left the deck. He strolled across the deck lazily, not really paying any mind to where he was going. He passed by the dining hall; the light chatter and clinking of tableware followed him for a few metres, then it was replaced by a different sound. Music. A slow, sad melody, carried by the wind. Curious, Francis followed it. In the most remote part of the deck, he found the source. Andrew stood there alone, eyes closed, violin in hand. With slow, fluent movements, he moved the bow over the strings, creating a tune that was sad and beautiful at the same time._

Right in the middle of all the chaos and death, Andrew stood in the flooded dining hall, playing the violin. For a few seconds, Francis just stood there, mind wiped blank. Then he fought his way through the flood and scattered furniture. "Andrew!," he yelled and the Scott looked at him. He smiled softly, setting down the instrument. "They are all gone," the red-haired man said, "All dead..." Francis realized that the screams had stopped. Was it wrong that he didn't feel any sadness? How could he, when Andrew stood in front of him, still alive?

"_You know," Andrew said, "I think I grew quite fond of your presence." Francis chuckled. They stood next to each other on the railing, gazes sweeping over the sea."So it seems," Francis answered finally, "Or why else would you spend so much time with me?" They laughed quietly. A sudden gust of wind swept over them, ruffling their hair and pushing a few blond strands into Francis' face. Seemingly out of instinct, Andrew lifted a hand and brushed them back. Francis casually noticed that he smelled of pine woods. _

Francis had reached Andrew by now and he wrapped his arms around his torso as soon as he was close enough. The Scott rested on hand in his hair. "We will die here, won't we?," the blond asked quietly. There was no answer. Instead, Andrew carefully led him outside into the storm again. They stood on the railing, watching the hungry water below. "Yes," the Scott whispered, and then his lips were pressed against Francis'.

_They stood side-by-side on the railing again, wind ruffling their hair. They were silent, just relishing in each others presence. Suddenly, Francis turned towards the Scott. A small blush had formed on the Frenchman's cheeks. "Andrew?," he asked, shifting closer to the red-haired man. "Hm?" Swallowing thickly, Francis leaned closer. Their lips almost touched, but just before they could, Andrew pushed Francis back. The Frenchman fell to the floor, and when he got up, all he could see was the quickly leaving back of the red-head. Just where had he gone wrong?_

Their lips fought a hungry battle, full of fear and sadness, and yet it was so loving and gentle as possible. They parted briefly to breath. "I love you," Andrew whispered. Francis closed his eyes. Hot tears ran over his cheeks, mixing with rain and sea-water. "Me too," he said hoarsely, "Je t'aime." He held the Scott to him tightly, while they returned to kissing each other. Around them, the flood was dragging away whole pieces of the ship, dragging them into the bottomless sea. "I won't let you go," Francis muttered into the kiss. He felt Andrew's arms tighten around him. "Same here," he replied. A huge wave started to build up on their left. "Ready?," Andrew asked. A nod from Francis. Their lips pressed together once more when the water hit them and swept them away. The sea drowned out all sounds. Both had their eyes closed, still kissing, still holding each other. They were dragged down deeper and deeper, away from the ship and the storm. Water filled their lungs and finally, their lips parted. Two hearts made their last beats, two pairs of eyes would never see the sun again – and finally, two sets of arms let go.

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**I can never have the couple end up happy... o.ô Anyway, I uploaded this after uploading it to tumblr and deviantArt. The cover picture (which I will add once the icons stop disappearing as soon as I try to put it into a story -.-) was drawn by Lillonwy from dA. Yeah, that is about it.**

**Ah well, reviews? Please?  
**


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